The Best of Intentions
by Usher
Summary: The aftermath of an accident involves the best of intentions, but sometimes, the best of intentions can lead to more harm than good.  One-shot with serious mature themes from the start. M rating & bad summary


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It was a frosty autumn evening as Alan trotted down the paths that wound their way through the interlinked buildings that comprised the campus of Wharton Academy for Boys. He'd been stuck with his Math Tutor for the past two hours as they debated the joys of Algebra and tried to improve his understanding of one of his most hated subjects.

Sighing, he realised it was nearly lights out and he broke into a run, dashing for the main door to his dorm so he could at least get changed before Mr. David made his rounds to make sure all the rooms were somewhat in order and that they were ready to actually go to bed. He also didn't want to disturb his newest roommate who had transferred in from California for the Autumn Term. Don Wilson was older than him by two years, and was usually in bed with the covers over his head long before Alan was ready to hit the hay. For the past two weeks running, he'd ended up changing in the dark so he wouldn't wake him after his tutoring sessions and he wanted a shower tonight before he slept. As he climbed the stairs to the 2nd floor, he muttered under his breath that he hoped Fermat was enjoying College in CalTech and irrationally blamed him for his current situation. He knew it wasn't Fermat's fault he was a genius; he could thank really good genes and what was to Alan an unhealthy love of studying for that. But he also knew that if Fermat had still been at Wharton, then they both would have been going over Algebra in their dorm room and there would have been no need for a tutor _or_ for his father to find out just how bad he was at math.

Spotting Mr. David poking his head into the room next to his, he swiped his card through the reader for his room and slipped inside, cursing beneath his breath when he realised that the room was already in darkness. Taking out his phone, he activated the display and pointed it towards the ground so he could pick his way across the potential minefield of debris that littered most teenagers' floors and began to stealthily make his way towards the bathroom.

Crispin David closed the door to the Sheedy brother's room and rolled his eyes. He'd just spent a few moments berating them over the state of their room which to his memory had been pristine the night before. Nothing short of a nuclear disaster in the intervening hours could have produced that much devastation. Checking the next door he saw that the lights were already out and reminded himself to check on it the following morning, but as he was moving on, he heard a sharp cry and opened the door with his master card, flicking on the light.

"Don? Alan-" He broke off when he saw what was hanging from the door to the bathroom and hastily looked around for Alan, finding him sprawled on the floor staring up at his roommate, obviously in shock. The remnants of a phone lay at his feet and his face was frighteningly white.

"Alan, come here." Crispin ordered gently, beckoning for him to come away. One look at Don's face told him it was already too late to help the teenager, and at that moment, Alan was his main concern. Alan showed no sign of having heard or seen him though, and continued staring up at the hanging body. Dragging out his phone, he hurried across the room and put himself in between Alan and the door to the bathroom, reaching out to touch him. Alan turned large blue eyes to his face and opened and closed his mouth but nothing came out. Crispin didn't need to say anything, but gently pulled Alan to him and held him tight as he dialled the headmaster's number.

"Dr. Thompson, I need you in Ash dorm. Don Wilson..." he cleared his throat softly unwilling and almost unable to say the words. "Don Wilson hung himself. His roommate just found him. You might want to bring Miss Lee too. He's in shock."

Stuffing his phone back into his pocket, he helped Alan to stand and half-carried him to one of the beds, sitting him down and pulling a blanket around him. Looking at his face again, he didn't like the spaced, dazed look in the fifteen year olds eyes and patted his cheek gently; bringing his face close to Alan's to force him to look at him. "Alan, can you hear me?" He asked gently, and Alan nodded numbly, turning his head towards the bathroom again. Crispin quickly shook his head and steered Alan's face back to his. "Don't look, son. There's nothing we can do for him now."

"I...I was at Algebra..." Alan stammered in a whisper. "We got...we were going over polynomials...got caught up...I didn't mean to be late..." he tried to look at Don again, only to have his teacher grip his chin tightly.

"Alan, don't. You don't need to see him again." Realising that keeping him in the room was not a good idea, he helped him stand again and guided him down the corridor to his small suite and soon had him situated in a comfortable armchair with the blanket tightly wrapped around him. Alan was still shivering and when the Headmaster turned up with the school nurse in tow, he found Crispin briskly rubbing the teenager's arms in an effort to warm him.

"I've called 911." Brad murmured softly, so as not to disturb the teenager. Alice Lee ducked around him and made her way to Alan; the living always took precedent over the dead. "The paramedics and police should be here soon. Alan found him?"

Crispin stood back to let the nurse take over and walked with the new headmaster down the hallway. "From what I could gather, he was late getting back from a tutoring session. The light was off when I was making my rounds, and Alan went into the room when I was checking on the Sheedy's." He gestured to one of the doors before opening the next one down. "The lights were still off, so I guess he thought Don was in bed."

"What happened to the phone?"

"Cell Phone displays make good torches." Crispin muttered as the headmaster stared at the dreadful tableau in front of him. "There's a note on the bed..."

TTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

Jeff was going through round two of Paperwork Hell; he'd arrived in New York in the middle of the night and had gone straight to work, meaning that by the time Ann Marie had arrived early that morning, he was signing the last batch of folders and had a look of despair on his face when she arrived in to his desk with another armload.

"Wipe that look off your face, Jeff." She laughed. "Only three of these are for signing; the rest are just FYI's. And one budget request from R&D 'B' again. Which I'm guessing-" she broke off as Jeff flicked it open, took a look at the total at the bottom alongside the familiar signature and signed his own name next to it; "you're just going to approve it anyway." She finished with a sigh. "Some day you are going to sign your life away to Professor Hackenbacker."

"So long as it isn't to Professor Farnsworth." Jeff muttered, looking at the R&D 'A' budget request. The number at the top of the page made him wince and he slammed it closed before theatrically cracking it open a fraction of an inch and wincing again. Ann Marie let out a girlish giggle; something not often heard from the silver-haired woman and gently thwacked him across the back of head with a light folder.

"Be nice." She ordered, bustling around the table again as he began to read his way down through the requests, marking some and ticking others. "Between him, Professor Hackenbacker and their teams, they've made you a fortune over the years. So, how are my boys?"

"Big and bold." Jeff mused absently, running a practiced eye over the numbers. "Gordon took a spill a few days ago and bruised some ribs. He's fine though; grouchy."

Ann Marie made a face and took a seat by the desk, sorting the folders into a semblance of order for her filing. "And my baby?"

"Big and bold." Jeff's lips twisted into a wry smirk. "You know Alan; he's a great kid, but he's still a teenager. Mouthy, attitude and continually annoying two of his teachers. I believe Ms. Drysdale is currently carrying a hatchet for use on him. Mr. McDonald seems to be on a better understanding, but that could change again by next week and he'll be back to square one again. After this, how much more torture?"

"After this, you are free as a bird." She declared. "There's a couple more files you can take home with you, but its light reading and nothing life or death. The meeting with the Board isn't for another month and a half so you can rest on your laurels and play with your fancy rockets to your heart's content. I'll send you the details later on. Matt Elbe says that the Winston takeover is going smoothly and they should be ready to sign in about a month's time, so we might want to push that meeting out or bring the Board meeting forward so you can do both and not have to come over twice."

Jeff nodded, underlining a few words and looked up. "And the Thomson situation?" He asked quietly, his eyebrow raising.

"She was escorted from the building last night and the Ohio branch is being searched as we speak. The FBI Industrial Espionage Team are going through her accounts and searching her home for the plans. She said she hadn't sold them on yet, and I'm inclined to believe her all things considered, but I think we should let them handle things from here on. They've got the Secretary of Defence breathing down their necks as well as Jay Howard so I'm confident the situation will be resolved swiftly and properly. And on a lighter note we've had 5 births in the last week globally and no deaths. And yes, I've sent the bouquets and baskets." She smiled warmly, getting slowly to her feet.

She threw him a wink as his desk phone began to ring and left him to it, shutting the door behind her on her way out to give him some privacy. It wasn't like they only ever talked when he was on the mainland; on a day without a rescue she could have up to four or five phone calls from him, not to mention the memos and emails. Still, it was nice to talk to him face to face after all the years they had of working together. After all, she'd been with him since the day Tracy Inc. opened in Kansas.

She was just starting a fresh pot of coffee when the door to his office was wrenched open and she sighed; it was probably Alan. These days at least, it was probably Alan. In the old days, though, it could have, and usually was, any one of the other four. Even John had had a few eventful moments in his teenage years.

Instead of telling her what had happened, though, he breezed through the outer office like the hounds of hell were on his heels and was gone before she could open her mouth to ask what was wrong. Pursing her lips, she called downstairs and told his driver to be ready, and as a precaution, called ahead to the airport to have the jet prepared and ready in case Jeff needed it. She gave him enough time to reach the car and then called his cell phone. The familiar tune Virgil had composed began to sound in the office and she growled loudly and hung up. He'd left it behind along with his briefcase.

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Jeff glanced worriedly at Alan who was sat in the co-pilots seat of Tracy 2, watching the dials as he guided the small jet through the air. The youthful, normally carefree face was tired, and there were dark circles underneath his eyes, showing how little rest he'd gotten in the last 48hrs.

They were flying through low cloud over Utah now, and there was still hours left to go until they reached the Island. Casting another worried glance his way, he reached out and touched his youngest son's shoulder. "Why don't you go back and lie down for a while. Even if you don't sleep, it'll do your body some good. Gordon left some magazines back there and I think there are some vid movies in one of the storage boxes."

Alan opened his mouth to snap at his father that he was fine, but catching the look in his eyes, he realised his dad was just worried about him, and sighed softly. "I'm ok, dad."

"You're not." Jeff countered calmly, "You wish you were, and I wish you were, but what happened last night isn't something you're going to get over lightly. You can put it out of your mind time and time again, but..." He sighed again, his grip tightening on Alan's shoulder.

"Maybe I'll go see what Gordon's left behind." Alan announced suddenly, breaking the silence. To soften his words, he gripped his dad's hand tightly for a moment before unbuckling his harness and slipping out from behind the controls. "I'll leave the door open and if you need me just shout." Jeff nodded and turned his attention back to the controls.

Alan was barely settled onto one of the couches when a loud bang filled the cockpit and the window erupted inwards as though someone had punched it; spider-cracks running away from the white shape now embedded in it. Feathers and blood whipped around him as the jet suddenly jerked and alarms started sounding, telling him that engine 1 had shut down. Activating the radio, he was confronted with heavy static and no proper signal.

Alan picked himself up off the ground only to stumble again as another jolt shook the jet and a vehement curse came from his father as yet more alarms started sounding and the 2nd engine shut down. "Alan strap yourself in! I'm going to try to land it-" Came an urgent order and Jeff lowered the nose of the jet slightly, aiming downwards to try to get out of the cloud that obscured his view without sending the jet into a nosedive. As Alan fought against gravity and the slope of the floor to get to a chair, there was a crashing noise from the cockpit and the floor beneath him suddenly bucked and he lunged towards one of the seats. And then as suddenly as it had all begun, everything went black as the Jet skimmed over the crest of a mountain slope and came to rest halfway down the other side.

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It was 4 o'clock in the morning when Graham Miller blinked and tapped his screen as though it would miraculously make the red flashing triangle on his screen turn back into a green dot. When it didn't and he double-checked the location and the flight-plan in the system, he turned in his seat and beckoned his Supervisor over, simultaneously activating his radio.

"Juliet Tango 125 619 Golf, please respond...Juliet Tango 125 619 Golf, please indicate if you are in distress..." He tried again for another minute before turning to his supervisor.

"Sir, we've got a possible flight down. According to the Flight Plan it was headed to the South Pacific from New York; One soul on board."

Bart Peters frowned and leant over the console, double checking. "Right. Keep monitoring your other birds." Miller went back to his screen, and Bart hurried to his own desk, plugging his headphones and mike back into the console. Hitting a couple of keys, he called up the information he needed and patched himself through to a Heliport in Utah. "Uniform Tango Alpha Hotel Sierra Alpha Romeo, this is Alpha Tango Charlie One Niner Five, come in?"

There was a small amount of static, and a sleepy voice came on the line. "ATC, this is UTAH Search and Rescue, how can we help?"

Bart read down through his information again and sighed softly. "SAR, we have a non-responsive jet which has disappeared from radar in your area. I am sending the coordinates to your systems now. Jet is registered to Tracy Corporation, one soul on board."

In the Utah SAR headquarters, all thoughts of sleep shed away from the radio controller and he straightened. "Roger ATC, I confirm receipt of coordinates." He paused a moment and then read them back over the radio for confirmation. Once the Air Traffic Controller had signed off, he hit the assembly alarm, and in the Night Room, the on-call helicopter crew tumbled out of their cots and dashed into the incident room.

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Everything was still black when he opened his eyes again, and he tried to move, hissing a groan when his entire body protested. Lifting his arm in front of his face, he could barely see it but it reassured him that it was probably still dark outside and he wasn't blind, though the throbbing pain at the back of his head reminded him it had received a pretty hard hit. His mind suddenly started racing as he realised what had happened, but as with the time of the Hood, he didn't descend into blind panic. Instead his head began to compartmentalise what had happened, sticking the shock and terror aside to be dealt with at a later time and place.

He gingerly rolled onto his side and then onto his knees and raised his head. He was on the ceiling of the main cabin of the jet; or at least, the ruined remnants of the back of the jet. Shuffling forwards until he hit what would have been the top of the door, he slithered over the obstacle until he was in the cockpit, shattered glass crunching underneath his knees and shredding his jeans.

"Dad?" He hated how weak his voice felt, but at that moment he felt like he was 5 and not 15. "Dad!" This time his voice was a little stronger, and when there was no reply, he began to feel along the roof. He judged he had covered half the ceiling when the moon chose to come out from behind a cloud and illuminated the devastation of the cockpit. A few feet ahead of him, his father dangled limply, still strapped to his seat by the 5 point harness and Alan lurched to his feet and forced himself to feel for a pulse.

He nearly collapsed with relief when he felt a steady thump and turned his attention to trying to get his dad down without hurting him any more than he already was. He was half working on autopilot as he assessed what he had to do but the wreckage of the jet gave him the answer before he'd reached a solution. The ground they had landed on wasn't stable, and the fuselage began to slide before pitching to the right and rolling, letting out a scream of tortured metal as it moved. He couldn't stay on his feet as it skittered and finally turned, and he slid down with it, trying to protect himself as much as possible. He stayed frozen to the spot until he was sure that it wasn't going to move any more, and let out a long, shuddering breath, wishing that they were back on the Island.

Jeff was now in a more manageable position, and Alan carefully began to check him over, freezing when his eyes opened a crack. He mumbled something Alan couldn't quite hear and tried to swat the hand away from his face.

"Dad, can you hear me?" A pained grunt answered and Alan sent up a prayer of thanks. "Dad, do you have pain in your back or neck?"

"Hed..." Jeff screwed up his eyes again and Alan realised he was losing him and pinched his earlobe hard.

"Stay awake! C'mon, I need you to answer me; Your head hurts; where else? Neck? Back?"

"No." Came the short reply, and Jeff's eyes remained firmly closed. Alan stared at him for a minute, hoping he was telling the truth. Turning away, he ran a frustrated hand through his hair and began to take stock of the situation. Easing into the empty chair, he fished for the headset and put it on, flicking the switch for the radio a few times. Dead silence came from the headsets and he ran his hand down the lead hoping that there was a break in the cable that would explain it. When his fingers met the console with no break or interruption in the cable he began to curse, dredging up every single word he'd heard and learned hanging around with former military men, and more importantly, Parker.

"Dad, what do I do?" He turned, hoping for an answer and knowing he'd get none. He'd only had three sessions of emergency first aid with Virgil and Brains, but he knew his dad had hit his head, or that something had hit it for him. Feathers were scattered around the cockpit, and in the corner at the back, lay the mangled carcass of a large goose, while another seemed firmly embedded in the windscreen in front of the chair he was sitting on.

Jeff stayed stubbornly unconscious, and Alan growled, frustrated. Sitting back in the chair, he swivelled it around to survey his moonlit surroundings and realised that he had to make his dad as comfortable as possible, and get him warm. He was afraid to move him in case he had actually hurt his neck or back, and since having a goose smack you in the face was bound to leave some damage, he decided to leave him strapped into the seat. A quick search of one of the back compartments produced the emergency kit, and he took out a silver rescue blanket and tucked it around his father.

Once that was done, he sat back and watched his father, taking comfort from the even breaths he was taking, and quietly took stock of the situation. They were in Utah, it was dark, cold, the radio wasn't working and his dad was hurt.

He waited until the sky began to turn pink and shook Jeff awake again, pinching at his ear and hand to make sure he was conscious. He wasn't prepared for his father to take a swing at him but managed to jerk his head back so that the fist just clipped his jaw. It was a weak swing, but it stung all the same, and Alan sighed and rolled his eyes, remembering Scott doing the same to Virgil a year or so back when he was heavily concussed by a falling rock. "Dad! Listen to me, ok? I'm going outside the plane and I'm going to walk a bit to see if I can get to high ground in case we're near help. Stay where you are, ok?"

Jeff grunted and within seconds was unconscious again. Alan couldn't be sure he'd heard or even understood what was being said. He felt torn, but realised that he needed to get his dad help and soon, and there was no guarantee that anyone knew where they were. It took a few minutes to be able to wrestle the door open, and when he stepped out, he was dismayed to find they were on the side of a steep slope, and that the vista below them stretched away for miles with no visible sign of civilisation. They had landed on loose shale which had shifted and banked up when the wreckage had slid, but he was heartened to see that a large boulder had stopped the slide, and it wasn't likely that it would move any more. Another look around showed one of the wings lying a few meters below on the rocks, and more debris littered the slope.

Gingerly making his way around the crumpled nose of the jet, he stopped to catch his balance and breath and made a face when he realised that there were blood streaks on the front of the heavily damaged nose. They'd definitely hit more than one bird. Remembering Virgil and John talking about something similar happening in New York before any of them were born, he realised that they'd probably flown straight into a flock of them.

Alan didn't know if his father had managed to get off a mayday signal, and that left it up to him to get help for them both. Checking the surrounding area, he noted the landmarks and then carefully began to pick his way across the shale to firmer ground and then began to work his way through the rocks, boulders and crevasses that fell in his path up to the top of the mountain they were stranded on. It took him nearly three hours to get to the top of the highest ridge, and he collapsed down onto a rock when he got there, breathing hard.

There was nothing.

Trees.

Rocks.

More mountains.

Not a house.

Not a road.

Nothing.

He buried his head in his arms and let the tears he couldn't release in front of his father flow.

TTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

He cried until the tears stopped coming, and scrubbed at his face with the sleeve of his shirt, embarrassed and angry with himself for crying. Realising he had to get back, he slowly got to his feet and took a final look around to make sure he hadn't missed anything. As he turned to head down the ridge, he realised he could see something in the sky a distance away, and hope welled up inside him. It grew closer, and he realised from the way it was moving that it was a helicopter.

Spurred on by the thoughts of rescue he began to rush down the ridge, sliding over patches of loose rock and gravel. It grew closer and closer and swept around the area as he began to climb up a gorge, and as it zeroed in on the crash site, he could clearly make out the orange body and markings that showed it was a rescue chopper. It disappeared from sight and he assumed it was landing by the wreckage. It seemed to take forever to find a path out of the gorge, and as he carefully slithered over a rock at the top, the hope that had sprung up died.

The helicopter rose up into the air again and headed north, away from his position. A helpless cry broke the silence, and he sat down in the dust, watching with disbelief as it disappeared in the distance.

"No..." He felt a stirring of anger in the pit of his stomach as the wind began to pick up, and lurched back to his feet, nearly slipping on the loose dirt and gravel. He picked up the pace as he retraced his steps back to the jet, wondering why they hadn't come looking for him. They should have; he'd been there when his father logged his new flight plan at Wharton Airport stating that the jet had a passenger for its return journey.

Dismissing the thought he picked up his pace, hoping that if they'd left him behind, they'd at least found the wreckage and taken his father. If his brothers were running true to form, they wouldn't try to contact him until they were sure his father was ok; they didn't want him worried. He could survive for a short amount of time; he knew it, no matter what. But his dad...His did didn't have the luxury of time on his side.

The thought remained echoing around his mind as he carefully made his way back across the shale until he got to the door of the jet, and was heartened to see a couple of discarded rubber gloves lying on the floor, along with the cap of a syringe. Reaching the cockpit confirmed his hopes as the pilot's seat was empty, and the metallic blanket was nowhere to be seen.

TTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

Scott yawned and stretched, as around him, Thunderbird 5 continued on its methodical orbit. He began to swivel his seat from side to side, clearly bored. John hadn't left him anything to do, and his younger brother would no doubt kill him if he started to tweak any of the settings or programs . A light blinked on in the console as a soft chime filled the air, and he flicked on the headset, seeing who was calling on the data read-out.

"Ann-Marie, what can I do for you?" He asked brightly, glad to get a reprieve. The long silence that followed was accompanied by the smile draining from his face. "Ann-Marie, what's wrong?"

"Scott, when I got to the office after lunch, the police were right behind me. Tracy 2 crashed in Utah. The Search and Rescue Team left at dawn and found the wreckage. They med-evacuated your father to the nearest hospital. He has a heavy concussion, but other than that, no serious injuries; just bruising from the harness and where the birds- oh, they said it was a Bird Strike. More than likely a flock of geese from the damage. He'll be ok, Scott...Scott?"

"I'm ok." Scott managed to get out before clearing his throat roughly. "Just a concussion and bruising?"

"I wanted to make sure I had all the information you'd ask for Scott, so I called the hospital before I called you. He got a bad bump on the head. He's not really coherent right now, and they are monitoring him carefully, but the doctor assured me he'll be fine. There's no sign of his brain swelling...Scott?"

Scott took a deep breath, nodding though she couldn't see him. "Thank you Ann-Marie. I'll send Gordon. If he thinks dad needs us, he can call for the rest of us. I'll keep you in the loop, Annie." He signed off and took a moment to compose himself before hitting the button that would connect him through to the mainland for a conversation he really wasn't looking forward to.

TTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

Less than 5 minutes later, an earthquake in Auckland stopped the argument raging in the Tracy household, and as Thunderbird 2 took off with John and Virgil at the helm, Brains launched in Thunderbird 3 to retrieve Scott while Kyrano and Gordon hurried to fuel Tracy 1.

It felt to Gordon like an age before he was gingerly easing himself into the car Ann Marie had waiting for him at Salt Lake City Airport, and he sent a silent prayer of thanks to God for giving them the woman. The drive to the hospital seemed almost as long as the flight had been and when he finally arrived at the Nurses desk he was a bundle of nerves, energy and aches.

He approached at a fast walk, looking tired and harried, and the young woman patiently waited for him to get there and to blurt out his father's name and what had happened. When he ran out of steam, she got to her feet and beckoned a passing porter over. "Jake, would you bring Mr. Tracy to room 604? His father is the one brought in by the SAR. I'll page the doctor in charge and tell him that you've arrived." She calmly handed him off to the grey-haired porter.

The man stayed silent as they stepped into the elevator, and as they travelled upwards he took in the harried look on the young man's face. When Gordon got to the room, he found the doctor was there waiting for him and was surprised at how smoothly his arrival had been dealt with.

"Gordon? Welcome to the secure floor." The doctor approached with a careful, measured step that mirrored Gordon's and he suddenly realised who he was facing.

"Mitch!" The doctor smirked and clapped him on the back as they hurriedly gave each other a brief hug.

"That's Doctor Mitchum to you, Gordo." Gordon's former team medic informed him with a grim smile. "Your father will be fine."

"When did you get out?" Gordon asked, still shocked, and 'Doc Mitch' shrugged as he led the way into his patient's room.

"About six months ago. Things got a little lonely with everybody gone and sometimes it's as easy to leave as it is to get used to a new team. Jason wanted to settle down too, and we both thought that Search and Rescue would be a good career change for him. Plus, it was time to stop pretending, you know? My time was up anyway, so I decided not to sign on again. Leave WASP to the younger guys, settle down with Jase and maybe start thinking about extending the family... Here he is, Gordon."

Gordon walked past him to the bed where his father lay. He was heartened to see there weren't too many tubes visible, but there were sensors on his head and chest, and he looked at his old friend with trepidation. "How is he really, doc?"

"Really, he has a bad concussion, but nothing I'm too worried about. A lot of abrasions and contusions but nothing life-threatening. We have him under supervision-" He gestured to the nurse sitting by the wall whose eyes were focused on the pad showing the read-outs the machines were giving, "and I am quite happy that he will be fine, Gordon. All we have to do is wait for him to wake up properly. He has woken up a few times but he's been pretty much incoherent. But so far as I can tell, he is physically ok. His eyes tracked ok, and he could feel pressure and sensation on his limbs. I can tell you this much, though, he's pretty grouchy when he does rouse. Tried to take a swing at me once or twice while he was being examined."

Gordon began to relax a little and nodded gratefully. "Thanks, Mitch...you don't know how good it is to hear that."

They chatted for another few minutes before Mitchum was called away, leaving Gordon to sit and wait, staring at his father. After a little while, he realised he'd grown stiff and got to his feet, nodding to the nurse. "Just going to tell the family what's going on." He advised her, and stepped out of the room.

Finding a quiet spot outside in the dark, he rang the number that would patch him through to Scott and waited patiently for his brother to answer; there was no use getting het up if they were in the middle of a disaster zone. Fortunately, though, he didn't have long to wait for Scott to answer.

"He looks bad, but his doctor is an old WASP buddy of mine. Mitch says he's going to be ok, Scott."

Seated at Mobile Control, Scott 'hmmmed' and got distracted for a moment. Gordon listened to him giving instructions to his brothers, and absently scuffed his toe in the gravel. Finally Scott turned his attention back to his brother. "Do you think we need to be out there?"

"No. Not at the minute at any rate. It seems like a good hospital; he's got his own dedicated nurse and he's been put on a secure floor. I served in WASP with his doctor and he's a good man and a damned good doctor. I'll talk things over with Ann Marie and see if the FAA or NTSB want to get involved. I'll probably head out to the crash site as well and take a look over it. Sound good?"

"Good thinking, Gordon." Scott began to relax a little but kept his eyes on the systems monitoring the ground sensors for any signs of a coming tremor. "I haven't told Alan or Grandma yet; I don't think there's any point until we're sure dad's going to be ok and is on the mend. I don't want to upset them and knowing Alan he'll want to talk to dad to make sure he's ok...what do you think?"

"I agree." Gordon nodded decisively. "School is probably the best place for him right now, and if we can keep this out of the media then it's all the better. I'll give it until he's stabilised a little more and tell Grams then. We'll deal with him being upset about not being told later. How's everything going?"

"Multiple buildings down. Unsure of casualties." Scott advised him and cleared his throat. "Keep me informed but I'd better get back to the others. With only 3 of us on the ground, we need all the help we can get."

Gordon hung up with a sigh and yawned tiredly before dialling Ann Marie's number. A quiet talk with her ended up with him having a hotel room booked until further notice, an appointment to go with the FAA to the crash site and a host of get well messages from his father's friends at Head Office. That night, he slept in a chair by his father's bedside, silently thinking about when their positions had been reversed and his father had held vigil by his own bedside, waiting for him to wake up from his own high-speed crash.

TTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

Alan hunkered down for the night in the wreckage. He'd scavenged the cushions from the sofas and tried to make a little cave for himself to keep the little heat his body was emitting contained. He'd found the thermal blanket he'd used for his father discarded a few meters away from the jet, and carefully wrapped it around himself. It was even harder to make a fire; in the end he'd given up as the stuffing from the cushions refused to light.

As night closed in around him, he tried to get some sleep. After turning a few times, he closed his eyes and sighed. His mind went blank for a moment, but then the memory of what Don had done made him open his eyes again. Sighing softly, he bunched his fist under his cheek and tried to settle down again. Blinking tiredly, he wondered if he would have been able to do anything to help; anything at all that would have stopped him from taking such a drastic way out, but couldn't think of any. He'd been as friendly as he could to the new kid, tried to show him around campus, tried to engage him in conversation, but the older teenager would have none of it. He'd kept himself to himself and that was the end of it. Closing his eyes again, he shook his head and tried to dismiss everything from his mind. What Don did was not his fault. No matter how much it felt like it.

It was the end of October, and winter was already closing in around him. He had no way of checking, but was pretty sure that the temperature was beginning to dip below freezing. It was a long, uncomfortable night, and he woke up shivering as dawn light crept into the wreckage. Yawning tiredly, he lethargically broke out of his make-shift tent and went outside to watch the mountains and hills around him slowly begin to grow lighter and more visible until the sun crept above the horizon.

When no one arrived by midday, he began to worry and as he sipped on the only bottle of water he could find, he began to think back to the day his father had arrived. His father had packed his bag, promising him that he'd get him a new cell phone to replace the one he'd dropped and broken. They'd gone into the car and driven straight to the airport. His father had radioed in his new flight plan to the local ATC who should have logged it as they were taking off...

...and he had no memory of his father calling his brothers at any point to tell them that they were both on their way home. Which meant they probably didn't know yet that he'd been left alone on the mountainside. They weren't in the habit of calling him the moment something went wrong; they usually waited until everything was alright, or they had the full details.

Making his way into the cockpit, he kicked at the panel housing the dead radio to see if he could break it loose. Wracking his brains, he half-remembered an old conversation with Scott as they'd wandered down the runway on the Island, and realised that the antennae was housed directly underneath the nose of the airplane which undoubtedly hadn't survived the impact. Even if he was able to repair the radio, he still wouldn't be able to get a signal out.

As time ticked on, he tried to think of what to do. He was on the side of a mountain, in near freezing temperatures without proper clothing; his bag was stuck in the cargo hold underneath the plane which was now resting on the ground. His only chance of rescue had come and gone, and if his brothers were as 'caring' as they had been with Gordon's accident, and his father's concussion as severe as he thought, then it could be days before they tried to contact him and tell him what had happened; days before rescue. Could he hang on that long?

Spending a third night in the wreckage made his decision for him as the temperature dipped even lower and he woke up to find the water bottle was completely iced up. If he stayed any longer, he wouldn't survive. His only hope was to head down and try to find civilisation.

TTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

Checking his watch, Gordon stretched and stood up, moving to hover over his father's bedside for a minute. Jeff was still stubbornly unconscious and the Nurse shrugged when he glanced at her. "He could stay asleep for some time yet." She reminded him gently, and he checked his watch again. It was early enough in the morning, but their grandmother was most likely up already.

Slipping out of the hospital, he shivered slightly in the cold morning air as he dialled her home phone. "Gramma, it's Gordon. Listen, there's been an accident..."

He carefully guided his grandmother through the process of finding out her only child was lying in a hospital, and promised to keep her up to date as she drove to the local airfield and badgered John Layway to fly her to Salt Lake City. When he finally pressed the end call button he blew out a long breath of relief and sat down on a nearby bench, clearing his throat and hit another number, shivering slightly as he waited for the Lady in Pink to answer.

"Gordon, what can I do for you today?" Lady Penelope asked with a smile, which faded slightly with the lengthy pause before he began to speak.

"Dad crashed the jet, Penny. He's in hospital unconscious but the doctors predict a full recovery. He's going to be fine, but we wanted you to know."

Penny nodded hesitantly from her seat in the back of the pink limousine. "Is it believed to be malicious? Your father is an excellent pilot, Gordon; I do not believe-"

"The SAR team said it looked like a Bird Strike. They said there were dead geese in the cockpit and blood streaks on the nose. The FAA are sending a team today to look into it but they don't think any formal kind of investigation is needed. A flock of geese will definitely take out a jet. And they are too small and spread out to register on radar. It wouldn't matter who was flying it. We're just lucky that all he did was hit his head."

TTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

As the sun rose higher into the sky, Alan set out for lower altitudes. He'd written a note on the back of one of the flight manuals and propped it up on the instrument panel in the cockpit for when his rescuers arrived. Squaring his shoulders, he set out armed with a small bundle wrapped up with the thermal blanket.

He couldn't carry much, but in the end after a thorough scavenge through the wreckage, there wasn't much to take. A second frozen bottle of water, an out of date chocolate bar that must have been wedged between two of the seats in the back and some of the contents of the First Aid Kit. A hopeless sense of loneliness hit him as he turned at the end of the shale slope and looked up at the remnants of the jet and he spent a few minutes staring at it, before clenching his jaw and heading out. At the first flat, clear space he met, he spent a few minutes constructing a large arrow and then set out in the direction it was pointed.

TTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

Gordon waited for his grandmother's flight at the airport, and wrapped his arms around her the second they met, returning her tight grip. "He's going to be fine, Gramma. I promise. I know his doctor and the guy told me straight. He'll be fine."

"When you have a child, Gordon, you'll know that those words mean nothing until you've seen them for yourself." Beth muttered, drawing back slightly to look at him properly. "When was the last time you slept? Or ate?"

"I've slept Gramma, and I grabbed a bagel and some fruit when I got here. Come on; we've got a hotel room for you beside mine, but I'm pretty sure you want to see dad first."

When they were in the car, she knew she could speak freely and she turned in her seat to look at him properly. "Where are your brothers?"

"New Zealand; Auckland." He clarified. "The three of them are helping out after the earthquake. As soon as they are sure there's no more living people in the wreckage, they'll come straight here."

"And Alan?" Her chin lifted slightly and her eyes narrowed when the red-head didn't answer. "Gordon Cooper Tracy..." She trailed off and clucked her tongue at him. "That is very deceitful of you. That poor boy gets left out in the cold so much when it comes to your damned family business; do you have to do it with your family too?" Not taking her gaze from him, she took out her phone and quickly hit his speed dial number. Her frown deepened when she got through to her messages and she sighed heavily as she waited for the beep.

"Alan, sweetie, this is your Grandmother. Call me back the second you get this message. It's important." She hung up and stuffed it back into her bag, and finally turned her gaze to the road. "Honestly, Gordon, you treat Hiram better than you do your own brother."

Gordon hunched over the steering wheel and pursed his lips tightly shut; it didn't do to argue with Gramma. You never got anywhere with it.

TTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

Alan shivered as he headed into his fourth night on the mountainside. He was glad he'd headed to lower slopes. The temperature had still dropped but he felt slightly warmer than he had the night before. A half-remembered old survival series that Scott had always watched had led him to building a fire that actually lit, and he at least had some heat source to keep him going. His stomach was painfully empty, and as the fire cracked and popped and sent sparks streaming up into the sky, he sipped on the last of his water and sent yet another prayer up for rescue. He fell into an uneasy sleep, propped up against a rock with the fire by his feet and when dawn finally came, he roused and sleepily began to stumble further down the mountainside.

TTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

Beth 'Gramma' Tracy sat by her sons bedside, holding his hand tightly, willing him to wake up and tell her he was going to be ok. Behind her, Gordon watched on, two dark circles underneath his eyes. He felt like he was going through the wringer, and now had to take care of his grandmother as well as hold vigil at his fathers bedside and worry about his brothers safety in New Zealand. There had been two nasty aftershocks during the night, and a building close to where Thunderbirds 1 and 2 were parked had collapsed to the ground.

"Gramma, I need to meet with the FAA guys and go to the crash site now. Are you sure you'll be ok here?" He asked gently, and she looked up, covering the hand resting on her shoulder with her own.

"I'll be fine, Gordon. Go and find out how we can stop this happening again. I'll deal with Alan." She ordered crisply, and he smiled wanly.

"Lady P said she'll be coming some time today, so keep an eye out for her will you? And when the nurse says its time to go for a cup of coffee and something to eat, you do what you are told, do you hear me?" He ordered with mock severity, and she slapped his hand and shooed him on his way.

Less than three hours later, he was in a helicopter with four men from the FAA and someone he'd met long before. Doctor Mitchum's partner Jason Carr was a full-time member of the SAR group and was seated next to the pilot, ready to show him exactly where the crash site was, and where the best place to land was.

As they circled around the crash site, the colour drained from Gordon's face and he placed it in his hands when he saw the mangled wreckage scattered over the slope. Both wings were gone; one at the top of the ridge, and the other a few meters below the upturned fuselage. Pieces of the outer skin littered the shale and he shared a long look with one of the inspectors as the helicopter came to land far enough away from the shale that it didn't cause a rockslide.

"Careful going down." Jason ordered curtly, and Gordon nodded sharply, trying to push down the urge to snap that he knew what he was doing. Jason led the way down, and Gordon kept a good eye on his footing, well aware that to fall would do significantly more damage to his already injured ribs than he'd like, and would possible mean someone else got injured.

One by one they carefully made their way down until they were at the bottom of the slope, and Jason calmly commented that the jet had slid further down from when they'd rescued the pilot. "It was right side up, too, and it looks like it's swung around 180 degrees." He murmured as one man entered the cockpit, and another began to take photographs of the nose of the jet.

Gordon stood outside and looked over the hull with a practiced eye and Jason came to stand beside him, his work done for the moment. "He was lucky." The Californian remarked quietly, and Gordon nodded slowly.

"If he'd been any lower hitting the top of the ridge, he'd be dead." Gordon confirmed quietly, his mouth forming a thin white line. "If he hadn't held it…"

"But he did." Jason held his eye carefully. "And that's the important thing to remember right now. He's in hospital, but he'll wake up any minute now and-" He broke off as a tinny noise rose up into the air. Gordon immediately blushed and took out his satellite phone, silencing it.

"Gramma, whats wrong? Did dad wake up?"

On the other end of the line, Beth strode up and down in the hospital room, ignoring the pleas of the nurse to calm down. "Gordon- your brother…I couldn't reach him…his phone was still off…I rang the headmaster….oh Gordon, oh Gordon…." She sounded frantic, and Gordon frowned worriedly.

"Gramma, calm down. What about Alan? Gramma, you need to breathe…Gramma?"

"Oh Gordon! _He was on the plane!"_ She wailed and on the mountainside, Gordon froze, his head whipping around to stare at the wreckage.

"Gramma….why would he have been-"

"His roommate hung himself! Your father picked him up and he was going to do correspondence schooling until after Thanksgiving….Gordon, he is adamant that Alan was on the plane with your father, and I called Ann Marie and she said…. oh Gordon find your brother!"

Gordon hung up on her and dashed inside the jet, as if somehow the teenager would be sitting on one of the seats inside. Glancing around, he found nothing to show that his younger brother had been on it, and squeezed past the Inspector into the cockpit, looking around frantically. Everything was upside down, and he had to take a moment to orientate himself. Again, there was nothing to show there had been another passenger, and he scrubbed his hand through his hair.

"Mr. Tracy, is everything ok?" The man asked carefully, and Gordon shook his head.

"My Grandmother's just spoken to my little brother's headmaster. Alan was on this jet when it crashed." He answered shortly, and suddenly dipped down, snagging a clipboard. Turning it over, he immediately spotted his brothers handwriting and sagged against the headrest of the pilots chair. "Can't stay; Temp is dropping; water is freezing in bottle. Headed down past the crooked tree. Will leave marks. Alan." He read out, his voice shaking uncharacteristically. "It's dated yesterday…"

Jason heard everything and within moments was on his radio back to base, ordering a new search team out into the area. Gordon waited impatiently as Jason ordered him to stay put until they had other rescuers, a map and a grid pattern to search, as well as aerial backup and radios. He paced anxiously at the end of the shale slope until he realised he had to tell his brothers what was going on.

Sitting on a rock, he rested his forehead on the palm of his hand and dialled the number that would patch him through to Mobile Control. He was glad it was John that answered, and took a deep breath before speaking.

"We've got a problem."

Back in Auckland, John froze. "Dad?"

"No, not dad. Alan."

John screwed his face and resisted the urge to bang has head against the console. "What's he done now? I swear, we don't need this right now. With dad in the hospital-"

"He was on the jet with dad. Gramma just spoke to his headmaster. Something happened to his roommate and I guess they decided he'd be better off coming home for a bit…the Search and Rescue crew are on their way…he left a note in the cockpit, John. The temperature here is reading at -2 Celsius now and the sun is high."

John opened and closed his mouth and turned to look at their surroundings. "Gordon, we're still getting life signs here. And a hotel that was housing some of the evacuees has a partial collapse. Virgil is helping out there, and Scott's in the mole trying to get to-"

"I know! I know you need to stay there, John. But you need to know that Allie's out here…Alone." He added before taking a deep breath. "God, John, if I'd tried to contact him yesterday, or even the day before we could have-"

"Just find him." John ordered sharply, cutting off the sudden barrage of self-doubt and pity. "We'll be with you as soon as we can. He can't have gone too far. Right, Gordon? Right?"

"Right." Gordon didn't sound as sure as his brother wanted, and John bit his lip as a dial tone sounded over the radio. He warred with his conscience for a moment before flicking a switch that would put him in touch with his other brothers.

"Guys, we've got a situation…Op 5 is reported to have been on the Commander's craft."

Deathly silence met his words, and at the site of the hotel, Virgil froze, holding up his hand to stop one of the firemen from speaking. "Op 2, please repeat?"

"Alan was on the Jet." John spoke slowly and clearly, making sure he was being understood. "Op 4 has just confirmed that fact and a search is underway."

TTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

Alan was exhausted and as he clambered and slid over rocks, he was more than aware that his movements were clumsy and lethargic. He'd been unable to find water, and the lack of food and dehydration was telling on his body. The lack of sleep and the bump on his head wasn't helping, and as he tried to climb up the last two meters of a steep gorge in the early twilight that being deep in a crevice brought, he lost his footing and fell back, rolling over the edge of the ledge he had been standing on a few minutes earlier. He ended up going down the rest of the slope face first, his hoodie and the skin on his arms quickly shredding on the rocks as he slid over them and finally jammed up against another rock.

He was wedged against the boulder that had stopped his slide and to his surprise and shame, once the shock of everything faded, he began to cry. They were tears of exhaustion, pain and anguish at his situation, and he lay there, unmoving until they finally stopped flowing and the sun finally disappeared behind the horizon and the world around him darkened. He knew he'd made the wrong choice; a fork in the road so to speak that led him to an impassable drop, which meant he'd had to back track. Unable to find the way back to the place where he'd made his decision to take the right leg of the V he'd encountered, he'd ended up in the gorge. He lay there, unmoving for some time, unable or unwilling to get up, and when he finally moved to do so, a sharp pain shot up his arm, warning him he'd done serious damage to his right arm. Looking around, he realised he'd never be able to climb out in the condition he was in and wouldn't be able to light another fire. After quiet, careful consideration, he pulled the foil blanket out of his hoodie and tucked it around his torso as well as he could with one hand, let his head drop back down onto the dirt and closed his eyes.

And gave up.

TTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

Jason wished he'd brought a leash with him. He was beginning to suspect it was the only way he'd keep the red-headed Tracy in line. He found it hard to believe that it was only two or three years before that the man was lying in a hospital bed being told he was unlikely to ever walk again, and was sincerely regretting agreeing to allow him to come with them, despite the younger man's assurances that he'd had rescue training.

"Damnit Tracy, hold up!"

Gordon scampered over the rocks like a mountain goat. He'd been the one to spot the first arrow made with rocks on the ground and since that moment had been like a blood hound; ferreting out every sign and symbol his brother had made either on purpose or by accident. Finding an empty water bottle had raised his spirits somewhat, and every arrow or mark he found spurred him on. He'd chafed at having to spend the night cooped up in a tent on a ledge in a gully, but the moment the sky had begun to lighten, he'd poked Jason and the other searchers awake and was already striking the tent before they'd had a chance to wake up enough to remember what was going on.

Finally they entered a gorge, and Jason frowned when he realised where they were from his training days. "Gordon, is there any chance your brother is part mountain goat?"

Gordon took a sip from his water bottle and shook his head. "They all say I'm part-fish but so far as I know, Alan is all-human. Why?"

"From the signs he left, he definitely came this way, but I know this place; there's no way out once you get in except the way you came. The walls are too high and too steep. You'd need serious equipment to climb out, and that's with someone belaying you from above."

Gordon's face lit up and Jason sighed at the immediate hopeful expression that crossed his face. "Then what are we waiting for?"

"How about the rest of the group to catch up? Gordon, I know you are worried, but this is a big gorge and it splits into several legs. We're going to need everybody to search this one if we want to find him before nightfall."

Gordon sighed and sat on a rock, suddenly looking dejected. "I just hate the thought that he's out there, on his own. He doesn't like being on his own. I mean, it was hard enough for him when he went to boarding school, but at least then he had Fermat. And then Fermat went to college...and..." he screwed up his face and sighed. "I don't like it is all..."

Jason nodded, leaning against the rock opposite him. "Gordon, I didn't get the chance to apologise before now, but, for what it's worth, I'm sorry we didn't look for him. The Flight Plan didn't indicate a passenger, but that's no excuse. I- we should have looked for signs of another survivor."

Gordon waved away his apology. "Jason, if I had been in your place, I'd probably have done the same thing. And knowing my father, I definitely would. My old man always follows protocol to a T. I guess it comes from all the military training. I just don't understand why he didn't update the flight plan before he took off. He was coming from Boston, not New York...he should have."

Jason shrugged and as the sound of rocks clattering down a slope reached their ears, he got to his feet. "Well, at least you have the chance of finding out. You can ask him when he wakes up, or when we find Alan; whichever comes first."

Once again, Gordon led the way, and when they reached the first split in the rocks, they all began to disperse into groups. Gordon was surprised to see a balls of twine emerge from everyone's backpacks and two were fastened securely to one of the rocks before the two teams split off, each with their own 'gingerbread trail' back to the main path. He appreciated the simplicity of the idea that guaranteed that if they were to get lost they would have an easy way back, and if anything were to happen to them, that rescuers would be able to find them easily.

"Let's get this show on the road." Jason ordered, and they picked up the pace. From time to time, they would encounter another split in the gorge, and two of the rescuers would peel off, attaching their twine to the main line and ducking off down. Sometimes, they caught back up with them stating it was a dead end, and the others continued until Jason told Gordon that they were nearing the end of the line.

Gordon nodded preparing himself for the disappointment of not finding Alan, and hoped that the others would have better luck. As they came in view of the rocky, virtually un-scalable slope a flash of silver caught his eye, and before the others even registered it, he was breaking into a run, moving as fast as he could over the loose rock and dirt. "ALAN!"

He scrabbled over a few rocks and loose dirt until he was by his brother's side and a pang of worry hit him when Alan's eyes opened and he dully looked up at him; seeming not to even register his existence. "Alan; can you hear me? Come on, little buddy...we got you. Alan?"

"Not real." Came the tired mumble, and Alan sighed heavily, closing his eyes again.

"Am real."

"Are not."

"Are too! Allie-gator, open your eyes, please. C'mon, kid, it's time to go. Open your baby blues, Alan. Dad's at the hospital with Gramma, and Penny and Parker'll be there too by now. Alan!" He shouted, lightly slapping his brother's cheek, and Alan's eyes shot open again, this time with a bit more life behind them. "You can touch my hand and see that I'm real, Allie. See? C'mon, Sprout, I'm right here." Gordon coaxed carefully, and held out his hand close to Alan's, and after a moment's hesitation, Alan reached across the few inches that separated them and grazed his skin against his brother's.

"Really real?"

"Really, really real." Gordon confirmed and hunkered down closer as the others finally reached them. "Are you hurt?"

Alan sighed softly and tried to struggle upright. "Cold, Gordie... I'm cold." He mumbled dejectedly as Gordon draped his jacket around him and helped him sit upright. Gordon hissed in sympathy when he saw the state of his brother's arms and steadied him as he wavered slightly.

"Back? Ribs? Anything else?"

Alan shook his head slowly, a complete picture of misery, and when he finally made his move, Gordon was completely unprepared. Wary of his arm, Alan snaked to the left and planted his head against his brother's shoulder, clamping his unbroken arm tightly around his brother's back. Gordon responded hesitantly but carefully hugged him against his chest, resting his chin on the blonde locks. "Easy, Al. I got you. I got you. Sorry it took so long to find you, bro..."

"...thought you never would..." Came the quiet mumble, and Gordon increased the ferocity of his hold.

"Hey, Tracy's never give up. I didn't give up on you. Tracy's don't give up on each other. Or themselves."

Alan's head twisted upwards, and Gordon was greeted with the sight of two vibrant blue, red-rimmed, tear-filled eyes staring up at him. "Damnit, Gordie..."

"Language, Sprout." Gordon cautioned with a queer smile on his face as Jason crouched beside them. "Sprout, I'd like to introduce you to a friend of a friend. Jason, this is Alan. Our little lost sheep." He'd hoped to get a little rise out of his brother, but Alan only smiled and laid his head back on Gordon's shoulder, his eyes closing to slits.

"Let's get you out of here." Jason patted him on the shoulder and then began to wrap more of the foil blankets around him. He was pretty sure the boy was at least mildly hypothermic, and behind him, two members of their search group were busy dismantling the backs of their rucksacks, removing the pieces that would make up a stretcher. It felt like no time at all that they had his arm immobilised and had him strapped on to the stretcher and wrapped in blankets. They were met by the happy faces of the other SAR members as they emerged from their part of the gully, and as they waited on higher ground for the approaching helicopters, Gordon quietly thanked them, all the while keeping a firm grip on his brother's hand; Alan refused to let him go, even in a semi-conscious state.

TTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

At the hospital, Beth was hovering over her son's bed. He was sliding in and out of consciousness, which the nurse standing with her said was a good thing. The only problem in her eyes was that every time he surfaced, he called for Alan, and she could do nothing to soothe him. A hand on her shoulder made her look up, and she smiled gratefully at the beautiful blonde in pink that had snuck into the room. "Lady Penelope. It _is_ good to see you." She murmured, and Penny smiled genuinely.

"How is he?"

"In and out." Beth declared sadly. "And calling for Alan. Always for Alan. He must remember some of the crash at least..."

"Why don't you get him on the telephone? Or Parker can pick him up. Alan's voice might do the trick in either waking him or-"

"You haven't heard?" Beth trembled softly. "Oh, my dear, I thought you knew. Alan was on the plane too. We only found out a few hours ago. Oh, my poor little man. He's been out there alone, all along. Gordon and the search and rescue are looking for him." Tears welled in her eyes and she turned away, dabbing at them furiously. She wasn't normally such an emotional woman. She'd come from hard Kansas stock, and had worked the land beside her husband, through thick and thin, flood and drought. She'd had to develop a thick skin, losing crops and livestock over the years, having to make ends meet when times were tight, and losing an infant when Jeff was only two.

"Milady, why don't you and Mrs. Tracy get some coffee. I'll sit with Mister Tracy." Parker announced quietly, and meeting the nurses eyes over Beth's head, Penny nodded, seeing that the woman in white was worried about the elderly woman.

"That's a wonderful idea, Parker. Come along, Mrs. Tracy. We will have some coffee and something to eat. You need to keep your strength up for your son." She steered Beth out of the room leaving no room for protest, and both Parker and the Nurse sighed gratefully.

"Thank you. She's been working herself up into a panic attack since this morning."

Parker nodded. "That's the Tracy's for you. A better bunch of people I never met." He declared, and sat down in the seat beside the bed. "Now sir, you wake yourself up, and stop worrying my Lady P and your mother."

He sat there for over an hour, and was surprised to find that he could calm Jeff by telling him Alan was on his way. He could tell the nurse disapproved of his methods but as he pointed out, a calm patient was a healing patient. By the time Penny and Mrs. Tracy had returned, he was regaling the nurse with a story of a six year old Alan being chased around the farmyard back in Kansas by an irate rooster. Even Beth smiled as he finished up his tale while giving the seat back to her.

It was just before midnight when Jeff woke up again and for the first time, clear blue eyes looked up at Penelope, steady and strong without the frantic movement that had accompanied his earlier waking moments. "Penny...?" He rasped quietly, and she smiled softly, drawing a smooth hand over his forehead.

"Welcome back Jeff." She murmured softly, so as not to wake his mother. "We were worried about you."

He looked confused and his forehead creased as he tried to remember what had happened. "What-"

"Your jet hit a flock of geese, Jeff. We are in a hospital in Salt Lake City. How do you feel?"

He shook his head; a movement he quickly regretted. "I don't remember. Why don't I remember?"

"Mr. Tracy, you suffered a head injury." The nurse announced just as quietly from her place opposite Penny. "You have a concussion. What's the last thing you remember?"

His frown increased and he tried to sit up, only to have both of them press him back down onto the bed. Taking the controls in her hand, the nurse slowly raised the back of the bed until he was more upright, and checked his vitals again to make sure the movement wasn't upsetting anything. "I was...flying... to Boston? What did Alan do that I was going to Boston?"

From the comfortable recliner in the corner of the room, Beth drew aside the blanket covering her and eased onto her feet. "Alan had a bad shock at the school, son. He found his roommate...dead."

Jeff blinked, clearly not able to remember. "I don't remember. Where is he now? And John and the others?"

Penny and Beth shared a look, and the aristocrat took a deep breath, mindful of the fact they were in the company of the nurse. "Scott, John and Virgil are unable to leave their present location. They will come as soon as they can get their transport off the ground." She murmured vaguely. "And Gordon...Jeff, Alan was on the jet with you when it crashed. Gordon is with the search and rescue teams looking for him. They know he is alive, just not exactly where he is."

It was no surprise to either of them when Jeff began to struggle to get up again, but this time there were three pairs of hands holding him down onto the pillows. "Your son is handling this, Jeff, and you are in no condition to help." Beth snapped. "Now stop misbehaving and lie down like a good boy." To his immense surprise, he fell back against the cushions and Beth smiled smirked, clearly pleased at his response. "Good boy. Now close your eyes and go to sleep. When you wake up again, we'll be here. I promise."

His eyes slid closed against his bidding, and when he fell into an easy sleep, they all relaxed. "Now we just have to wait." Beth murmured softly and returned to her chair, reclining back and closing her eyes, silently sending prayer after prayer up into the sky for the safe return of her youngest grandchild.

They passed a fitful night, taking turns watching over him. Penny had politely declined to go to the hotel, but had sent Parker away just after midnight. The nurses shift changed, and when Parker returned, he had breakfast and coffee for both women. Around lunchtime, Penny made an executive decision and she and Beth went to the cafeteria for food, and afterwards, the young aristocrat insisted that they go out into the fresh air for a few minutes, and managed to keep Beth out of Jeff's hospital room for a little over an hour.

On their way back, the elderly woman made a beeline for the restroom, and Penny steeled herself to go back into the room. When she was a few feet away, she heard a familiar voice, and picked up her pace, hurrying inside.

Gordon was standing by the bed as Parker told him that his father had woken up properly, and both men looked up as they heard the sharp sound of heels on tiles. "Penny; we got him. He's on his way for surgery now; broken arm. He's hypothermic, but they're dealing with that too….and he lost a bit of skin from his arms. But he'll be ok. They'll come and tell us when he's out. They'll keep him in the recovery room for a bit though, to make sure he'll be ok."

Penny sighed when she saw the dark circles beneath his eyes and nodded slowly. "That's wonderful Gordon. Why don't you sit over here in your grandmother's chair for a moment until she gets back. You look dead on your feet." She guided him over and pressed down on his shoulders and smiled genially at him as he sighed and let his head drift back against the cushion. Within moments he was asleep, and Parker shook out a blanket and covered him with it.

"Watch over them, Parker. I will be back in a few minutes." Penny murmured demurely and hurried out of the room, closing the door firmly behind her to shut out any noise from the corridor. Finding Beth in the bathroom washing her face, she quietly told her the good news and comforted her as she shed a few tears. It took a few minutes for her to recover herself enough to brave going out in public, and Penny watched her go with a slightly lighter heart. They'd be ok. They'd escaped another tragedy by the skin of their teeth again, but the family that were so dear to her heart would be ok. They would mend. Locking the door to the outside corridor, she took out her communicator and after a quick check in the mirror to make sure her mascara hadn't run, she hit the button and waited for someone to answer.

TTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

At Mobile Control, Virgil was getting antsy. There had been no word from either Penny or Gordon in way too long, and he was beginning to worry.

/Stop pacing/ came a command from over the comm link, and he huffed a laugh.

"How on gods green earth did you know I was pacing?" He asked and John smiled behind his visor as he fitted another support against the foundation of a building that was showing signs of movement.

"Because it's you and there's not much to do at Control right now. Try ringing him again."

"His sat-phone ran out of battery last night, remember? Its not going to do much good." Virgil griped and John shrugged.

"I forgot. What about try-"

"Hang on; incoming signal from Lady P." Virgil didn't bother cutting their comm. link, but didn't bring Scott in on the conversation. The eldest Tracy boy was talking with officials a few meters away and he didn't want to disturb him. And if it was bad news, then he didn't want to broadside him with it either. "Go ahead Lady P."

The vid-screen winked on and the pretty blonde appeared, looking as immaculate as ever. "Ah, Virgil. It is good to see you again. And I have good news. Your father has woken up properly, and while he cannot remember the crash itself, he can remember travelling to the school to see Alan. And speaking of Alan, Gordon returned with him a few minutes ago. I said I'd contact you as he is exhausted."

"How is Alan, Penny?" John asked, carefully backing out of the hole he was in. He sat on a piece of debris and waited, unaware that he was being watched by some of the rescuers. His skin had gone even paler, and he shook his hand to try and get rid of the sudden tremor. "Penny, how badly is he hurt?"

"According to Gordon, he has mild hypothermia, has lost some skin from his arms, and has definitely broken one of them. He is currently in surgery to deal with his arm, but is expected to come through none the worse for his dreadful experience."

"Thank you Penny." John cut off his comms and to the shock of the other rescuers, placed his face in his hands underneath his visor for a moment as the weight of the world suddenly rolled off his shoulders. It had been so difficult to carry on as though nothing was happening, but as the hours crept by, working without showing the strain had gotten more and more difficult.

Finally, a woman in a fire department uniform slowly approached him and hunkered down beside him in the shadow of the fallen building. "You ok?"

John started and she could faintly see his eyes through the tint of the helmet's visor as he stared back at her. "Sorry. Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Let's get back to it."

"What's wrong? Is there anything we can help with?" She pressed on as he stood.

"No, it's ok. Everything's going to be ok now. One of our people was missing, and another injured. They've found the missing man and he's in surgery now and the other is recovering well."

TTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

Scott realised that Virgil was hovering, and glanced at him, diverting his attention away from the Fire Chief for a moment. "Op 3, what's going on?"

"Some good news on the home front. The lost sheep has returned and the other one's woken up properly. Broken arm and hypothermia. He's in surgery to repair the arm. Op 2 has been alerted."

Scott gave a sharp nod and returned to the discussion, aware that the rest of them had been listening. He was grateful when the Fire Chief asked him if he thought they could handle things themselves, and nodded.

"As long as all the buildings are shored up...I don't think there's much else we can do here." He replied, and the grey haired man nodded.

"We've gotten to everybody we could. Your machines say there's no one else left alive in the rubble, and we think we've accounted for everybody." He continued to give his thanks on behalf of everyone, oblivious to the fact that all Scott wanted to do was get out of there.

TTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

Gordon was startled awake when both doors to the room were opened by orderlies, and as he blinked the sleep out of his eyes, a nurse and another doctor approached the bed. "We're moving your father to another room, so he and your brother can be together." Mitchum advised him quietly, resting his hip on the arm of the chair as his former team mate struggled to sit upright and wake up properly. "Alan's coming round from the anaesthesia, and he's doing well. His body temp's still a little low, so they're going to keep him in recovery for a little bit longer than normal, and he'll have a nurse with him for a bit, but we think he'll be fine. He's one lucky son of a gun."

"You can say that again." Gordon mused, stifling a yawn. "Where's..."

"Milady has brought Mrs. Tracy to the cafeteria for some refreshment." Parker advised from his place by the window. "And as soon as Master Alan is settled, she will bring her to the hotel to rest. You should probably do the same." He advised gravely, and Gordon shrugged, clearly not going to obey any order to do so. "And your brothers have managed to get in the air and will be here as quickly as they can. Milady informed them of the latest news."

Gordon made a face as the bed was wheeled past him and moved aside the blanket with another yawn. "Can we bring this with us?" He gestured to the chair, and Mitchum rolled his eyes.

"There's one in the other room. Bring the blanket and gather your things. And Gordon; I want you to go to your hotel room and get a full 8 hours when your reinforcements arrive. And after that, there will be no overnights here, and no one sleeping in chairs. Got it? This is a hospital, not a hotel."

Gordon grumbled softly beneath his breath as he grabbed his grandmother's coat and a few other belongings that were dotted around the back of the room, and followed them next door to a double-sized room. When the medical personnel were gone, he checked on his father, sent Parker off to get something to eat and settled down in a chair by the bedside, resting his arm along the blankets. After a moment, he reached out and slipped his hand into his father's and gently ran his thumb along his father's skin, ending up stroking it against the well-worn wedding ring. Blowing out a long, stress-releasing breath, he yawned again and didn't bother to try to hide it. Lost in thought, he didn't see his father's eyes open, but when the limp grip strengthened in his hand, he looked up to see his dad staring at him.

"Welcome back, dad." He smiled, and Jeff's forehead furrowed.

"Alan?" He rasped, and Gordon returned his grip tightly.

"Alive and well. Well, mostly well. He didn't come through unscathed but he'll be just fine in a few weeks and ready to go back to turning the rest of your hair grey. Broken arm is probably the worst of it, and that only happened a couple of hours ago. A small bump on the head from the crash...he's lucky."

Jeff squeezed his eyes closed as if securing the fact firmly in his mind and smiled his thanks. "You found him?"

"Yeah, dad. And you'll both be fine. Scott, Virg and Johnny are all on their way now; and there was an earthquake in New Zealand." He added, aware that the door behind him was open. Jeff looked momentarily confused, but when his sluggish mind caught up, he nodded.

"Everything ok?"

"Fine, just fine. Al'll be brought up here once they're sure he came through the surgery to set his arm ok, and I guess his temperature's settled down a bit."

"Why...so long ...to find him?"

"We didn't know he was on the jet, dad. Nobody did, so when the SAR got there and only saw you, they didn't look for any other survivors. The Flight Plan showed that you were the only one on board. It was only when Gramma called the school to tell Alan what had happened yesterday that we knew he was there. He said he'd gone to the top of a nearby ridge to see if you were near help. He couldn't get back to the crash site before the helicopter took off with you. Then the temperature started dropping below freezing, so he left a note in the jet and headed for lower slopes. He left arrows and markers to show where he'd gone for when we realised he was there."

That clearly troubled Jeff, and for once, Gordon was more perceptive than usual. "I think he knew we didn't know he was there dad. And he trusted that we'd find out eventually and come looking for him."

"Mad?" Jeff seemed barely capable of multiple word questions, and Gordon shrugged.

"No idea. I think he was too relieved and in too much pain to be too mad. It's not like it was on purpose at any rate."

Jeff seemed to think about that for a minute and then sighed softly, trying to resist the urge to close his eyes. "Dad, for once in my life I get to say this; go to sleep. You need it, and we'll all be here when you wake up again. Hopefully even Alan."

Jeff nodded slowly and yawned before letting his eyes slide closed. The grip on Gordon's hand, however, remained quite firm for a few minutes until he fully succumbed to sleep.

TTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

The haze that had descended on him in the gorge lifted and Alan was surprised to see a bright white ceiling above him. The odd beep and rustle of movement, combined with the lingering antiseptic smell told him he wasn't dead, and was probably in a medical facility someplace. And the bright red hair, smattering of freckles and impish green eyes that appeared directly in his line of sight assured him of it.

"Welcome back, Sprout." He felt Gordon's hand rest on his hair, and Alan began to worry. His brother looked like crap.

"What happened?" Alan asked quietly, and when Gordon frowned, he frowned too. "Gordo, what's going on? You look like death warmed up."

He felt relieved and slightly annoyed when Gordon laughed softly and ruffled his hair. "What happened Al? What happened! He wants to know what happened." Gordon directed this at someone Alan couldn't see, and turned back to him. "I'll tell you what happened. We got a call that dads jet went down. Flight plan said he was the only one on it, so the SAR crew only picked him up and didn't go looking for you. Then Gramma called the school when you weren't returning any of our messages and _then_ all hell broke loose. I look like death warmed up because for the past week all I've been doing is sitting by hospital bedsides, worrying, and combing the Utah Mountains for you. And that, my little brother, is that."

Alan sighed softly, still exhausted. "'K. It's not 'cos Dad's real sick or anything right? Nobody else is hurt, right?"

"No one else is hurt, Alan, and Dad is on the mend." Another familiar voice announced, and Gordon looked up sharply to find that the ''Cavalry' had arrived in the form of Scott, Virgil and John. The three men looked much less tired than Gordon, and the second youngest brother felt the rest of the tension and worry he had carried over the past week drain away.

"Boy, are you guys a sight for sore eyes." He muttered, and Alan screwed his face up with confusion. He tried to sit up, but was hampered by the heavy bandages on one arm, and a mixture of hard plastic and metal supports on the other, which was also heavily swathed in bandages. Gordon pressed him back down as Scott hurried over to help, grabbing the controls for the bed and raising the head of it, lifting him into a sitting position.

"Easy, Alan. You're to take it easy for the next few days." Gordon cautioned him sternly. "You've a broken arm, you got a right crack on the head and you're recovering from hypothermia. The doctor was surprised at how far you got, and how you escaped a serious concussion."

Alan sighed and relaxed back into the welcoming pillows. "Oh...right...I had to go far. No water left. And it was very cold." He shivered a little and two sets of hands pulled the blankets higher around him, tucking them in around his arms. "I remembered John telling me once that the temperature's supposed to rise something like 4 degrees for every 1000 feet descended. The water in the bottle kept freezing, so I kept heading down until it stopped freezing. I, uh, I don't remember much after that..."

"Exposure, Sprout." Virgil murmured softly from the other side of the bed to Scott and Gordon. His attention was divided between his brother and father, but since one was still sleeping and the other was awake, he turned slightly towards Alan. "That'd do it. But you're safe now. Promise."

"And shouldn't even be awake." Dr. Mitchum announced from the door with a smile. "But I'm glad to see it. You shake off anaesthesia pretty fast kiddo. According to the anaesthetist, they had fun trying to keep you asleep while they put the pins in your arm."

Alan frowned and looked down at his arm again and groaned softly. "Well, that's Coach Marks mad at me..." He muttered and sighed.

"Alan, if Coach Marks has anything to say to you about this, he can go through me first." Scott replied archly. "And probably Gordon, Virgil, John _and_ Dad too."

"And me." Parker interjected quietly from his seat by the window. "Milady would be rightly mad if anyone was to say anything to upset you right now. In fact, I might suggest to her that she and I take the long route home and explain things to your headmaster. With your leave, of course, gentlemen."

Scott nodded genially and rested a hip on the mattress, reaching over to brush Alan's hair out of his eyes. "So you have nothing to worry about, Alan, other than getting your strength back and healing. Virg...dad?"

Virgil turned to his father's bed and realised that he was beginning to wake up. Guessing what their fathers first move would be, Scott moved the locker that sat between the two beds and John and Gordon carefully nudged Alan's bed closer to Jeff's, knowing their father wouldn't be content with just seeing his son. Jeff's eyes opened as the gap was closed, and focused on Gordon who smiled. "You've got another couple of visitor's dad. Wanna say hi?"

Jeff frowned but brightened when he saw the other 3 ranging around his bed. "You're here...safe?"

Scott nodded, but flicked his eyes to his fathers right, and Jeff's face seemed to completely change when he saw Alan smiling back at him. "Alan..." He breathed and reached out, closing the distance between them to cup his palm against Alan's cheek. "You're ok?"

"I'm fine dad. I was worried about you...so worried." The cracking, almost warbled last two words showed the emotional strain he'd been under, and Parker didn't need Mitchum's head toss to join him as he left the room. They quietly shut the door behind them as the Tracy brothers surrounded the two beds, and Jeff eased across the mattress to be with his son, trailing I.V.s and sensor cables behind him, not caring. Mitchum watched through the small window for a minute and waved to the Nurse who had been watching the patient's readouts on the screens around the main desk as she shot to her feet, reaching for the Code Blue button that would summon a crash cart.

"It's ok; he hasn't flat lined; he's just pulled out the sensor. We can reattach it later." He called out, and though she looked peeved, she sat back down and stuck a post-it note on the screen.

TTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

The nurses were mostly understanding that both Tracy's refused to separate the beds. Mostly; there were some dirty looks, but since neither of them needed urgent care, and both of them were technically ambulatory, they left them as they were. They were finally left alone when the five Tracy's went to the hotel to get some much needed sleep, and Lady Penelope and Parker set off for London, stating prior engagements.

Alan was nestled in the crook of his fathers shoulder, and both of them had a network of sensors and tubes running from their chest and arms, but neither of them cared. The silence was punctuated by quiet beeps of the heart monitors; a sound that threatened to lull them both back to sleep, but like father like son, both of them resisted the temptation.

"I'm so sorry you were out there alone, Alan." Jeff finally broke the quietness and increased his grip, moving his hand to grasp Alan's.

Alan twisted his head around and frowned up at him. "I'm just glad you are ok, dad. I mean…it was pretty scary, but…I'm just glad now."

Jeff sighed and bent his head down to graze Alan's hair with his lips. "I just don't know how it happened…"

"You told me to go into the back and get some rest. I guess we hit the geese just afterwards. I didn't even have a chance to get into the cockpit before it all went black. When I woke up, it was night and the jet was upside down. Then it turned over when I was trying to work out how to get you out of the seat." He shrugged awkwardly and looked down at his immobilised arm. "I dunno…"

"Not that; how I didn't update the flight plan when we left Boston. I-"

"You did, dad." Alan murmured quietly, his eyes shining with sincerity. "I heard you do it. The guy at the tower responded and then you took off."

Jeff looked troubled but nodded slowly. "If you say so, Alan, then I believe you. The last thing I remember is taking off for Boston. Are you-"

"I'll be ok, Dad. It was Don's choice to do what he did. If I hadn't been there that night, then he might have done it another night. He wanted to kill himself. I could have stopped him if I'd gone back to the room earlier, but who knows…he might have done it while I was asleep, or while we were at class…I had a long time to think about it." He bit at his chapped lips and put his head back against his father's chest and closed his eyes as Jeff's grip around him increased.

"How'd I get lucky enough to have such amazingly intelligent boys?" He asked the otherwise empty room as Alan drifted off to sleep. Lifting his hand, he gently caressed his baby's hair and let his eyes slide closed.

In the morning, the seven of them waited for the FAA man to arrive and formally conclude the investigation, and Alan was glad to see that the dark circles had mostly gone from underneath Gordon's eyes.

In turn, the four oldest brothers watched their father and youngest brother like hawks. They were all a little shocked that the two of them had come out of the crash so well. Jeff's forehead seemed permanently furrowed in a frown from a splitting headache that wouldn't go away, and Alan's face was still too pale for any of their liking, but still…Jeff had already gotten up twice to go to the bathroom, and Alan had wolfed down two breakfasts worth of food; a sure sign to anyone who knew the notoriously picky eater that he was feeling fine.

When the man from the FAA arrived, Alan was ready to defend his father's actions, but the kindly man informed them before they'd even begun that the man who had taken the update to the flight plan had suffered a heart attack just after they'd signed off. He hadn't updated the flight plan, and neither had anyone else. He'd assured them that the man had survived and was doing better, and then quietly took his leave.

"It just goes to show; you can have all the checks in the world but it just takes one thing…" John murmured once the man had gone, and they all quietly agreed. Beth looked up from her crochet and smiled at her son who was once again holding his youngest son, looking as though he wasn't going to let go at any point in the near future.

"Well, we're all here now, and that's the important thing." She announced and resumed crocheting from her place in the comfy recliner. "Now, who is going to go and get me three balls of white double-knit. I'm running out and Margery Long is due in three weeks and I have to get this blanket finished." She looked at them expectantly, and John got to his feet, holding out his hand for the wrapper from the last ball.

The familiar request; uttered so many times when they were living with her in Kansas seemed to return them all to normality, and the twinkle returned to Gordon's eye as Beth continued to explain exactly what she needed to the ever-patient John.

"Grandma, I think he knows what you want; he's knitted a few blankets you know." He joked, and Scott nudged him hard enough to knock him off his perch on the arm of the chair. Before John left, two of them were bickering, Virgil was buried nose-deep in Alan's chart and Beth was asking Jeff if he'd thought any more about moving back to Kansas.

Closing his eyes, Alan vainly tried to quash the smile that threatened to erupt on his face. They were together, Gordon and Scott were arguing and everything was exactly as it should be.

TTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

**Ok, I will admit, the ending is a bit weak but hey, I can't be perfect. Nobody can. I will also say that I am very much aware that I glossed over the after-effects of Don's death, and I do wish I could have delved more into what had happened, and the why's and wherefores but it just wouldn't write.**

**Incidentally, some of the interesting facts I found out when I was researching how feasible this Bird Strike could be are:**

**B.A.S.H. (Bird Aircraft Strike Hazard). Air Force Euphemism for Bird Strike. **

**Over 9,600 bird and other wildlife strikes were reported for USA civil aircraft in 2010. **

**Over 219 people have been killed worldwide as a result of wildlife strikes from1988 - 2011**

**From 1990-2004, USA airlines reported 31 incidents in which pilots had to dump fuel to lighten load during a precautionary or emergency landing after striking birds on takeoff or climb. An average of 11,600 gallons of jet fuel was released in each of these dumps. **

**Waterfowl (31%), gulls (25%), raptors (18%), and pigeons/doves (7%) represented 81% of the reported bird strikes causing damage to USA civil aircraft, 1990-2010.**

**The North American non-migratory Canada Goose population increased about 4 fold from 1 million birds in 1990 to over 3.5 million in 2010. About 1,300 Canada geese strikes with civil aircraft have been reported in USA, 1990-2010; 42% of these strike events involved multiple birds. **

**A 12-lb Canada goose struck by a 150-mph aircraft at lift-off generates the kinetic energy of a 1,000-lb weight dropped from a height of 10 feet.**

**The North American population of Greater Snow Geese increased from about 50,000 birds in 1966 to over 1,000,000 birds in 2009.**

**From 1990-2010, 431 different species of birds and 36 species of terrestrial mammals were involved in strikes with civil aircraft in USA that were reported to the FAA-**


End file.
